In the Fifth Grade Again!
by AndroB
Summary: Draco Malfoy has now turned fifteenand he hates it. He hates everything about it, and would give anything to have it easier...ANYTHING!DISCONTINUED may be deleted...just to give you a headsup! Sorry...
1. Default Chapter

_Summary: Draco Malfoy has now turned fifteen—and he hates it. He hates everything about it, would give anything to have it easier…ANYTHING!_

_So…being the 15 year old he is, Draco goes to his favorite place in Hogsmeade and starts to flirt with a 7th year who works there. It seems to him that she knows exactly what he's going through…so he tells her his deepest wish…to be in the 5th grade AGAIN!_

_And it works. He finds himself in front of his old school. But, after re-living his most painful experience of 5th grade, he finds himself going to Hogwarts for the first time…_

_And his life is about to change…**forever!**_****

"This is so incredibly unfair!" I yelled to nobody in particular.

I was all alone, so there was really nobody to yell at. I supposed it's a good idea for me to be alone right now, seeing as the first person I see could be in danger of being strangled to death. Okay, I know it sounds harsh, but that's exactly how I feel. I'm serving detention at the moment, and all I can think of is evil thoughts towards McGonagall. I don't fancy even trying to think nice, happy thoughts when it comes to McGonagall and her detentions.

I can't stand McGonagall! I mean, it's bad enough to have detention tonight, but I also have one tomorrow night and the next night. You must be thinking I did something real bad, and that's not the case. In fact, I wouldn't even call it bad. I just ditched Professor McGonagall's class—three days in a row. If you really think about it, three days isn't that bad. Besides, that's all I did—honest. Don't you agree that detention should be against the law right now? No? How can you say such a thing? I was busy those three nights—so what if I skip class? I had more important things to do—and now, because of that, I must suffer three days of sorrow! Oh, bugger, I'm getting too dramatic. Who wouldn't? If you knew what I've been through…if only you knew…

I closed my eyes to remember every single detail of what had led up to my detention…

"Mr. Malfoy, your late," McGonagall snapped as I took a seat between Blaise Zabini and Hector Avery, my two Slytherin friends.

I rolled my eyes. "I know, and quite frankly, I don't care. It's only by 5 minutes, what's the big deal?" I retorted.

McGonagall's lip became thinner that it's ever gotten, which only happens when she's angry. She stood up and moved to the front of the classroom. I gulped. I've really done it this time. Me and my big mouth. "The big deal, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall hissed. " is that you've skipped my class three days in a row."

"Maybe I was sick," I told her.

"Oh, I seriously doubt that, Mr. Malfoy. I wasn't born yesterday. You see, that's what I thought at first, so I asked you other professors if they knew what you'd came down with. Oddly enough, whatever illness you had didn't unable you to attend Potions. Or any other class, at that. Why would that be, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I don't fancy you or your classes," I muttered bitterly under my breath.

I was relieved that she hadn't heard me. "You've developed quite an attitude about your school work, it seems, ever since you turned 15 in October," McGonagall growled.

"Actually, there's a really good explanation for all of this, Professor," I said, knowing there wasn't.

"Tell me, and it had better not be a load of rubbish," she snapped.

"Well, you see, I have this disease that many 15 year olds can develop, called 15 blues. When you get it, you break out all over your arms and legs with purple zits. It makes you go crazy, so you start to rebel and skip class. No 15 year old wants to be seen in public with purple zits," I explained with a very far-fetched story.

"Nice try, Mr. Malfoy, but your still in trouble. Because you ditched this class three days in a row, I believe the appropriate punishment would be for you to serve detention for three consecutive nights. I want you to write a three-page essay on the real reason you felt to skip my class. Tonight you'll write that essay and hand it in first thing tomorrow morning. The next two nights you'll polish the Trophy room. That will be all."

She returned to her desk. I **HATE** McGonagall!

I opened my eyes, and sighed. That's how it all happened. I can't change it now, that's for sure. McGonagall seems more and more like Professor Snape each day—don't you agree? Snape makes people write long essays, not McGonagall. I looked down at my pathetic essay full of hatred. It was in my messiest and worst handwriting. I should rewrite it.

It read:

_I skipped your classes because quite frankly, they are useless, boring, pathetic, lame—shall I go on? Truth be told, McGonagall, I can't stand you! Your ballsy, cryptic, a know-it-all, and—shall I go on? I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!!!!_

I crumbled the piece of parchment up. It clearly shows hatred, and could possibly land me with another detention. I have better things to use my time for than detention. I took out a clean sheet of parchment, and carefully wrote:

_Detention, McGonagall_

_Draco Malfoy_

_I skipped your class for three days, and believe me, I regret it every second. I did this because—oh, bugger, I really don't have a good reason. I guess it was mostly because I'm getting older, and, no offense, but your classes aren't exactly exciting and fun. I'm sorry if I wasted your time in class today, and I'll try to never be late again. I'll even try to not call-out, if you want. I'll also never skip class again. Promise._

_Your worst student,_

_Draco Malfoy_

_P.S. I know this isn't three pages long, an dif you give me another detention, I'll understand._


	2. A Howler of Vengenance

The next morning was even worse than last night. Mum sent me the one thing everyone hopes to never receive: a howler. That's right, a howler. "Better open it, or it'll explode on its own," Hector whispered to me.

"Just get it over with," Blaise said.

My stomach tightened, and I opened the howler. "**DRACO ALEXANDER DAKOTA MALFOY!**" my mother's voice barked.

The entire Great Hall fell silent, and I felt my face go red. "** I AM DEEPLY DISAPPOINTED IN YOU YOUNG MAN! I RECEIVED A LETTER SAYING YOU SKIPPED TRANSFIGURATION FOR THREE CONSECUTIVE DAYS!"**

I buried my face in my arms. This was embarrassing. "** YOU'VE DONE NOTHING BUT BEEN AN EMBARRASSMENT TO YOU FAHTER AND I! YOUR GRANDFATHER WAS PRESENT WHEN I RECEIVED THAT LETTER—HE PROBABLY THINKS I'BE DONE A BAD JOB IN RAISING YOU!"**

I sank lower into my seat. Grandfather always tells mum she can't raise a child in the right way. "** YOU KNOW HE ALREADY THINK I'M A BAD MOTHER! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU! IF I RECEIVE ONE MORE LETTER THAT YOU'RE NOT BEHAVING, I'LL SEND YOU STRAIGHT HOME!"**

The red letter exploded. My face was burning. Everyone in the Great Hall began their conversations again, and I ran up to my common room, not feeling hungry anymore. I plopped down on a leather couch in the Slytherin Common Room and sank my head into a pillow. Could my life get any worse? Someone tapped my shoulder. "You okay, Draco?"

It was Blaise. "Do I look okay?" I answered.

"No, and I think I can cheer you up--"

"Well, don't, because you can't," I snapped.

I sat up and looked Blaise right in the face. "Don't," I repeated.

"I just thought, since its Saturday, we could visit Hogsmeade," he told me anyway, getting up and heading for the door.

"You don't want to come with?"

"No," I replied bitterly.

"Hector's coming and maybe even--"

"No," I repeated.

He nodded, and silently walked away. Within five minutes, the entire common room became empty. Everyone was headed to Hogsmeade for the afternoon. Who am I kidding? I should go with Blaise and Hector!

This day's been so dull, and maybe Hogsmeade can brighten it up a little. I stood up and headed down the staircase to Hogsmeade. The first place I hit was The Bronze for a drink. It has bands that play everyday, and really good food. I sat down across from a woman who worked there. "I'll take a butterbeer," I sighed.

She nodded. I gulped it down in one sip. "You okay?" she questioned.

"No," I moaned.

"What's up?" she quizzed.

"I need another butterbeer," I told her.

"No, really, what's wrong?" she asked.

"I need another butterbeer!" I ordered.

She found a larger bottle and handed it to me. "What's on your mind?"

"You wouldn't understand," I replied.

"Try me," she replied.

I sighed. "It's this whole ordeal at Hogwarts. I skipped class three days, and it feels like I'll never see the end of it!" I complained.

"I know just how you feel," she said.

I was surprised. I looked at her. She was drinking a butterbeer too, looking interested in what I had to say. I went on. "My mum even sent me a howler. Plus, I was given three detentions over this! Back in the 5th grade, it was way easier. You were never in trouble—at least not as deep as I've gotten this year."

She nodded. I smiled. Finally, someone who understands me! " I was sent a howler one time for the same reason—oh! I thought I'd never show my face in public again!" she told me.

I nodded. "Exactly," I said, taking a big gulp of butterbeer. "I mean, the professors could stand to be a bit nicer, we need a little respect, which we don't get."

"I know! We have feelings, too!" she said. "Which year are you?"

"Fifth," I said.

"Seventh for me. I work here on weekends," she told me.

"That's really cool. I'm glad I came here today. This morning and last night—miserable. I suppose it'll be the same thing tonight. I have to polish the Trophy room. Bugger—that will be great!" I said, getting sarcastic towards the end.

I took another gulp of my butterbeer. "Well, I'll think of you tonight while you polish each trophy," she said.

"Thanks—but you know what?" I asked.

She looked deep into my eyes. "What?" she questioned.

"I—this will sound really stupid, but—I just wish--" I sighed.

"Go on," she urged.

"I wish—I wish I were back in the 5th grade again," I told her shyly.

"Done," she snapped.


	3. The Twisted Ankle

Instantly, in a flash, I stood outside in the snow—and it wasn't snowing when I went to Hogsmeade. I looked around. I was wearing a brown, fur coat, gray gloves, and a cap that covered my ears. My cheeks were frozen. I was holding a note in my hand. It all sounds and looks familiar, but I can't put my finger on it. I turned around, and my heart skipped a beat.

There, covered in thick layers of white snow, stood Kanisee Young Wizarding School. This is where I went when I was in Kindergarden and up to 5th grade. It's the best young wizarding school there is. It's so good; you have to be accepted to it. Only rich people are accepted to it, though. When muggles pass by, they see an older school, reading Kanisee Elementary.

I then looked down at the note I was holding.

Draco Malfoy

I love u so much!

Meet me after school

Behind the playground

I have a surprise for

U!

Love u

Always

Delysia Kendall

I rolled my eyes. Delysia is a replica of Pansy. She's one of those girls who dots her I's with hearts and writes cheesy love notes. I never liked her. Heck—I never liked Pansy. And I never ever will. "Hey Malfoy! What's in your hand?"

Someone pushed me to the ground and snatched Delysia's note clear out of my reach. Oh, bugger! "Get off me! I can't breathe!" I panicked.

The boy stood up, laughing. I still lay on the ground, moaning. The boy kicked my leg. "Hey everybody! Listen to this! Little Malfoy has a sweetheart! Aww—I'm so tuched by the note Delysia wrote! It's so cute how she dots her I's with little hearts!" he mocked, sounding sarcastic.

"Shut up!" I growled.

"Aww—does Malfoy have a crush on little Delysia? You can be dork and dorkus!"

Okay, this boy is harsh! I am certainly **NOT** a dork. "Give me that note," I yelled at him.

He laughed bitterly. "Catch me if you can, loser!"

He took off down the hill. I ran after him. The ground was covered in ice and snow, so it was dangerous to be running. But this was something I had to do—save my reputation. I got faster and faster…faster…I slipped at the edge of the hill on a piece of ice. Because I'd been running, I fell hard, and started sliding down the hill at a very fast pace.

I fell to the bottom, landing on my back. Pain shot up from my leg, and I knew I'd broken something. I looked down at my legs and felt sick. My ankle lay in an awkward position, and the pain was getting unbearable. My eyes were watering. Everyone outside ran down the hill, the boy with my note in front. "You want your note? What a great way to get it back—cry like a little girl!" he said as soon as he was within earshot.

I was crying hard enough for him to hear. He looked at my ankle. "Ouch! I didn't know falling down a hill could do that much damage to a guy!" he laughed, and kicked my leg.

I howled. "Stop! Leave him alone, Cash!" a girl shrieked.

It was Delysia. She shoved her way towards me, shaking. She bent down in front of me, examining my ankle. "I sent Ren to get a teacher for you," she whispered.

Sure enough, Professor Grant showed up a few seconds later. "What's going on here?" he demanded.

Cash's smile vanished, and it became dead quiet. Delysia stood up and faced the professor. "Cash hurt Draco," she cried.

"I bloody well didn't!" Cash retorted, face red and knuckles clenched.

It suddenly hit me in the back—that sentence sounded so familiar! This day—it must have happened before. I know I twisted my ankle in 5th grade once, and now I'm reliving it. My wish came true! "What did you do?" Professor Grant, the headmaster, asked Cash.

"I—I did nothing. The stupid git started running down the hill like a maiac, and slipped on a piece of ice," Cash lied.

"That's not true! You stole Draco's note, he ran after you and slipped!" Delysia said.

"Well, I don't care how it happened right now. We'll talk later, but right now, I need to get Mr. Malfoy up to the nurse's office," the Professoer said, carefully lifting me up into his arms. "I'll need to see the both of you straight away right after school ends.

He then walked up the hill with me. "So—who was telling the truth? My money's on Delysia," he asked as we entered the school.

I laughed, even though it hurt. "You're right. It was Delysia," I answered.

"Thought so. I don't trust Cash," he told me.

We went up the elevator to the third floor, where the nurse's office was. As we entered her office, the pain grew sharper. Professor Grant helped me into a chair as the nurse came to assistance. She took my boot off and my sock to examine my ankle.

"It's twisted, and I'll need crutches because my mum will tell me it's all my fault," I told her, remembering what had happened the first time.

"Ah, you're right. Your ankle is twisted very badly. Mums are very predictable, so it's very likely you'll need crutches. It's either that or a wheelchair. It will only be for a few days, though," she told me, as if a few days on crutches wouldn't be that bad.

She then picked up the Wiz phone, which is a headpiece connected to a mouthpiece. "Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy, please," she spoke, and the phone began to dial a number to contact my mum.

While we waited for my mum, the nurse began to bandage my ankle. She put a cast over it and gave me a couple of painkillers. I'd have to admit, the cast seemed uglier than the first one, which I had the first time I lived this day. My mum arrived shortly after I took the painkillers. The nurse greeted her at once. "Hello, Mrs. Malfoy. How are you today?" she asked.

"Fine—er—until you called to inform me that Draco was injured," she replied.

"I suppose my day would be ruined, too if I'd gotten a call the River was injured," the nurse said thoughtfully. "He's my oldest son, you know. I also have Ty, my middle son, and Jordan, my youngest son," she explained.

"That's—nice," Mum told her. "All I have is Draco."

"Well, Draco won't be able to walk on his ankle for about three days—at the most. I was wondering if you wanted crutches or a wheelchair."

"Crutches are fine—right, Draco?" Mum replied.

She said the 'right, Draco' part sharply, knowing I didn't want crutches.

"Right!" I mumbled through gritted teeth. The nurse nodded, and grabbed a pair of crutches that were my size. "You can return these or keep them, it won't matter," she told my mum.

"Thank you," Mum said. "C'mon, Draco, I'm taking you home."


End file.
